Wendy Simpson, our neighbor and friend, was dying of cancer. Her last wish was that we bury a memento honoring her along the Camino in Spain. She and her family had lived in Spain for many years and longed to return there. Together, we watched the movie "The Way," starring Martin Sheen, about his experiences walking the famous French Route of the Camino, a 500-mile trek through the Pyrenees across northern Spain. I agreed to honor Wendy's memory, as well as those of additional friends and family members who had died, along the Camino.

I invited their spirit to travel vicariously with me on the last section of the Portuguese Camino Route from Tui, Portugal, to Santiago de Compostela, Spain. I chose this route because it seemed the easiest, with the least amount of elevation gain and loss. I tested various hiking boots, purchased a lightweight backpack, trekking poles, Frog Togs™ for rain protection, and a sleeping sheet for use in the Albergues (pilgrim hostels) along the way. 

In September 2016, after training with my husband, Mark, for nine months, my 62-year-old body with feet damaged with neuropathy from chemotherapy (See Zihuatanejo Reflection), began our pilgrimage. Due to unexpected detours, we hiked 18 miles on our first day and ran out of water before reaching our Albergue. Peregrinos, or pilgrims, were squeezed into two dorm rooms with 48 bunk beds. There were two single-stall bathrooms, one for men and one for women, located upstairs, and larger bathrooms were available downstairs. Despite feeling exhausted, the cacophony of snoring kept me awake. 

My first night on this pilgrimage did not go well. I anxiously noticed the stoma for my colostomy had prolapsed and became elongated due to the stress of my backpack’s weight and becoming dehydrated. Worried I would need to quit the Camino after our first day, I prayed for guidance. Thankfully, I soon discovered a flyer describing a luggage service to transport my backpack to our next daily destination for only $5-7 USD.

I decided to lighten my physical and emotional load by shedding unrealistic expectations. Specifically, I released my guilt for not being a "good enough pilgrim." I accepted my limitations by opting for luggage assistance and alternating between an Albergue and a hotel for easier ostomy care. I focused on celebrating the communal experience of being a peregrina on the Camino.

Some people walk the Camino for exercise or as an opportunity to travel inexpensively through the countryside. Others hope it will inspire a spiritual experience. Perhaps they are letting go of a loved one, experiencing a significant change in a relationship, or honoring another commitment. I enjoyed hearing locals and fellow peregrinos call out as we passed by: "Buen Camino!" How wonderful to share a global camaraderie with others.  

We experienced two nights in Albergues, which particularly captured the generous spirit of the Camino. In Pontevedra, we signed into an Albergue, and for 7€ (Euros), our host provided a three-course meal for each guest. Before we ate dinner, he read the names, home cities, and countries of the previous walkers who had signed in the night before. We offered a communal prayer for these strangers on their pilgrimage.

After dinner, people spontaneously offered to massage each other's necks and shoulders and to bandage their feet. Enjoying English as a common language, I chatted with women from Ireland who regularly walked the Camino during their holiday vacation. Some volunteered to be hosts or hospitaleros at other Albergues.

The next night, there was no host to organize a communal meal at the Albergue. Instead, Mark and I picked up some supplies for a spaghetti dinner and offered to share them with others. Our initiative inspired additional people to contribute their food, and we enjoyed a nourishing feast. While getting acquainted, one of the guests exclaimed, "Hey, we remember praying for both of you last night from our previous Albergue!" 

Midway along our pilgrimage, we took a break to honor Wendy, as well as family members and friends who had passed away. I unpacked their photos from my daypack and wrapped them in a red bandana to celebrate Wendy’s love for the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. After digging a small hole overlooking the Ria de Pontevedra River, we prayed for their well-being and buried mementos of loved ones. I sensed their spirits were pleased by our remembrance.

We arrived in Santiago in time to receive our "Compostela," or certificate, for completing a minimum of 100 kilometers along the Camino and to attend a pilgrim Mass at the cathedral. Before my dad died, he'd seen the swinging of the "botafumeiro,” a 136-pound incense ball, through the cathedral and encouraged us to experience it. This practice began in 1000 CE for hygienic reasons to combat the stench of body odors from pilgrims completing their Camino.

By the time we left Santiago, I gratefully celebrated that my stoma had healed and returned to its typical size. I felt at peace knowing I had honored the memory of loved ones while also experiencing the Spirit of the Camino.

REFLECTION QUESTIONS:

1. Which places have you visited that felt like a pilgrimage site?
2. When you’ve taken time for a long walk, how has hiking become a type of meditation?
3. How have you honored the spirits of loved ones who have died?